Be Careful What You Wish For!
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Four college buddies are granted a fantasy that teaches them to think before they speak! Follows 'Choices'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Here's the latest. Thanks as always to Harry2 and Terry L. Gardner. Have fun with this…I did!_

* * *

§ § § -- November 28, 1995

Roarke was still gauging the weather on the veranda that Thursday morning when Leslie paused beside him and remarked, "Sometimes I still miss celebrating Thanksgiving."

"Undoubtedly," he said, regarding her with interest. "The gathering of family, the warm and joyful feelings you experienced among loved ones, the sense of gratitude you felt for all the people and things that made your life worth living."

"The five tons of food on the table," Leslie countered with a grin, "and the four-day weekend when we had a nice fat break from school."

"I should have known," Roarke said with sham resignation, and she snickered as the car drew up and they descended the steps toward it. In a few minutes they had reached the plane dock and stepped out. For all her teasing, Leslie was used to working throughout the long Thanksgiving weekend; business was livelier than usual on this holiday, and the tourist population on the island was dominated by Americans. She always looked forward to this weekend because the fantasies over Thanksgiving could be relied upon to be unusual, if not downright unique.

The first one was true to form; Roarke introduced a family whose two children had the same fantasy: to make liberal use of a magic carpet for a weekend. "As in the thousand and one Arabian nights, and flying Persian rugs, and Aladdin's lamp?" Leslie asked.

"Exactly," said Roarke, smiling. "I will need you at the main house in case of emergencies, since I must conduct driving lessons for about two hours later this morning."

She eyed him sidelong. "Right," she said, shaking her head after a moment and half grinning. Then a loud whoop from the plane dock drew her attention and she watched four young men climbing out of the seaplane, laughing, elbowing each other and eyeing the native girls with lascivious appreciation. "Let me guess. College frat boys on a tear."

"Correct," Roarke said, nodding in approval. "Very good, Leslie. Although we shall endeavor to minimize the amount of tearing they do during their stay with us." He grinned when she rolled her eyes at his little pun. "They are indeed fraternity brothers who have been friends since they started college at the University of Florida three years ago. In the order you see them coming down the dock: Peter Gibbons, the mathematical wizard and so-called brain; Sean Howard, a self-styled ladies' man; Doug Wilde, the football star and all-around athlete; and Cody Banning, who has been variously labeled 'the partier' and 'the one your mother warned you about', among other unflattering things."

Leslie laughed. "In other words, the geek, the lover, the jock and the bad boy," she clarified, and Roarke nodded in amusement. "You said they go to the University of Florida? Since Florida has sand and palm trees and warm temperatures to spare, the only reason they could possibly be here is because they have a fantasy. And I bet this is gonna be good."

"Well, it's certainly predictable," Roarke commented. "Their fantasy is a joint one to be shared by all four, and it's deceptively simple. They would like the power to have their every wish come true for a weekend."

"And you're granting it. Oh brother," Leslie muttered. "Are we _ever_ in trouble now."

"We shall see," Roarke said serenely and nodded at the native girl who delivered his drink, raising his glass in toast and delivering the familiar speech that Leslie had always privately considered the official start to a weekend. "My dear guests! I am Mr. Roarke, your host. Welcome to Fantasy Island!"

‡ ‡ ‡

If Leslie hadn't known better, she would have thought the drinks from the plane dock had made their college guests drunk. All four of them were boisterous, laughing, punching each other in the shoulders and trading comments about the native girls when they crowded their way into the foyer at the main house. The skinny ash-blond kid who had been introduced as Peter Gibbons was the first to really take note of their surroundings, and he gazed around with interest. "Hey, guys," he finally said, elbowing the one nearest to him. "Take a look around. This isn't a bad setup at all."

"Duuu-uuuude," breathed Sean Howard, who could best be described by the hoary cliché "tall, dark and handsome." "Awesome. Mr. Roarke, man, this is _sweet."_

Roarke smiled acknowledgement, slightly dubious but masking it well (except, of course, to his daughter, who grinned to herself). "Thank you, Mr. Howard. Won't you young men please come in and tell me a little more about your collective fantasy?"

"No prob," Cody Banning spoke up. He wasn't wearing a leather jacket, but for some reason he reminded Leslie to some extent of Fonzie from _Happy Days_. His auburn hair was an inch or so longer than current fashion and was pin-straight, hanging in front of a pair of piercing dark-green eyes. It was the attitude, Leslie decided, that practiced mien of casual aloofness, as well as the swagger Banning affected when he came down the steps into the study. "Whaddaya need to know?"

"Oh, I merely have a few questions," Roarke replied. "Is there anything we can get you before we begin?"

"How 'bout a beer?" Doug Wilde said with a grin. He had a crew cut so pale in color it looked white and shoulders that seemed about half a mile across; he wore his letterman's jacket over a very loud pseudo-Hawaiian shirt and denim cutoffs.

"Not yet, you idiot," Peter Gibbons said, rolling his eyes. "At least wait till our fantasy starts, can't you? Sorry, Mr. Roarke, we're all kind of impatient."

"Understandable," Roarke said. "Now, tell me, precisely how do you wish your fantasy to work? Your letter was quite vague—you merely stated you wanted your every wish to come true for a weekend. Was this meant to be literal or figurative?"

"Literal, of course," said Sean Howard, as though it should have been obvious. "When we say every wish, that's just what we mean."

"In other words, all we have to do is ask for it, and we've got it," Cody Banning added.

Roarke nodded. "I see," he murmured, surveying the motley crew assembled in front of him. Peter Gibbons looked a bit out of place in this group, thin as he was and only average-looking; he wore wire-framed, square-lensed glasses that were continually sliding down the oversized nose that dominated his face. But he had an attractive smile, which he now aimed at his host.

"So how's this gonna work, Mr. Roarke?" he asked. "Do we have to swallow a pill or wave a magic wand or something?"

"Nothing so burdensome as that," Roarke said, taking them all in with an enigmatic look about him. "No, you need only state your wish, and it will happen."

"Starting when?" asked Doug Wilde.

Roarke focused on him with a mysterious little smile that, Leslie noticed, made both Peter Gibbons and Sean Howard fidget a bit. "Starting…" Roarke let the phrase hang long enough to raise his left arm and deliberately wave his hand from right to left in such a way that his fingertips momentarily pointed directly at each of the four boys. "…now."

The frat brothers stood there, leaning forward slightly, waiting with bated breath. When nothing happened, they looked at each other and then at Roarke, perplexed. Roarke nodded once; again the boys looked at each other.

"I wish I knew what the hell that was all about," grumbled Sean Howard, and then he blinked and stared at Roarke. "Oh, that was the way you granted our fantasy." Having said that, he blinked again and looked startled. "How'd I know that?"

"You just now wished you knew why my father did what he did," Leslie explained. "And your wish came true."

Their guests gaped at her and then at Sean, whose face lit with a very large grin. "No way! _Dude!_ This is gonna be the coolest thing ever!"

Doug Wilde immediately announced, "I wish I had a beer." And just like that, a bottle of beer popped into existence right in his hand. The football player let out a jubilant whoop and wasted no time quaffing half the contents. His friends stared at him, their faces full of anticipatory delight. Leslie shot Roarke a worried look, to which he responded with a reassuring nod.

"As you can see," he said, catching their attention before their astonishment wore off, "this power is very potent and can be very dangerous. If you are not extremely cautious with its use, you may hurt many people and cause tremendous damage."

"So be careful what you wish for," Leslie added with nervous emphasis.

"No prob," Cody Banning assured her, smirking. "So, are you gonna escort us to our room, or wherever we're staying?"

"We have a driver waiting out front to take you to a bungalow," she told him.

"I could make a wish that you…" Cody began, but Peter Gibbons interrupted him.

"Forget it, Banning," he said urgently. "That'd be a lousy thing to do to Mr. Roarke—take advantage of his daughter with this power he just gave us. There's enough other stuff to wish for without you trying it on her." He eyed Sean, who like Cody had been studying Leslie with more than friendly interest. "That goes for you too, Howard—no using this power to turn Leslie into another of your conquests."

Sean and Cody looked at each other and shrugged good-naturedly. "Okay, okay, not a problem," Sean agreed readily enough. "There're plenty of good-looking girls on this island anyway. Say, Mr. Roarke, man, thanks loads." He reached out to shake hands with Roarke, and his friends followed suit one by one. Cody Banning, the last to do so, let his gaze stray to Leslie again; but when he gripped Roarke's hand to shake it, he found himself confronting the chilly warning gaze of a protective father. He smiled, lifted his free hand in surrender and left the house with his friends.

Leslie blew out her breath when the door closed behind them. "Father, I'm not sure granting them that kind of leeway was such a good idea," she said. "If they can wish for literally anything they want, they could create the worst chaos we've ever seen."

Roarke nodded understanding. "I can certainly appreciate your concern, my child, but there is method to my apparent madness," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "They seem to have a conscience in Peter Gibbons; and moreover, they will learn soon enough that having your every wish come true isn't quite the blessing they believe it to be."

"The sooner they learn that, the better, if you ask me," Leslie commented, and Roarke chuckled, patting her shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- November 28, 1995

The frat brothers were taken to a spacious bungalow that had been carefully cleared of any expensive trappings (unbeknownst, of course, to its occupants). Previous college groups from the United States had brought with them the sort of reputation for destructiveness that forever colored the treatment of future such groups. The furniture in this bungalow was heavy and sturdy, designed to withstand all but the very worst abuses that college kids could deal out. It was here that Peter Gibbons, Cody Banning, Sean Howard and Doug Wilde were dropped off along with their battered suitcases and overstuffed duffel bags. Beds and sleep sofas were claimed and bags dropped atop said furnishings; then the foursome collapsed on the sofas and chairs, legs and feet sprawled out everywhere, finally worn out by the long flights from Florida to California and from California to Hawaii before their charter to Fantasy Island.

"I could sleep for a week," Peter admitted with a sigh, and then sat up in alarm, as if afraid he'd just uttered a wish. However, he remained as awake as ever, and he slowly relaxed while his friends laughed at him. "Hey, it's not that funny," he said. "You never know what kind of statement could make something happen."

"I think we have to actually wish for it," Sean said thoughtfully. "Speaking of which, I'm starving, so here goes. I wish we had four extra-large pizzas with everything on 'em." A split second later, atop the coffee table appeared four steaming pizza boxes, from apparently thin air. He smirked and lifted the lid on the topmost box; sure enough, the pie within was covered with every imaginable topping…including, to Peter's and Cody's disgust, anchovies.

"You moron, now we gotta eat these revolting things?" Cody complained.

Peter shot him an incredulous look and slid the second box out of the stack for himself. "I wish the anchovies and olives were _not_ on my pizza," he said deliberately, giving Sean a significant glare, and then looked down to find that the offending items were gone.

"See, that's all it takes," Sean said, grinning and lifting a slice out of his box. Doug and Cody took the remaining boxes; Cody wished away the anchovies and Doug the mushrooms and vegetables; and the foursome dug in.

"Oh, yeah, one more thing," Doug said after his first bite. "I wish I had another bottle of beer." His friends snickered while he took a long pull on the draft bottle that had obligingly appeared in his hand, but Cody made a similar wish and Peter and Sean followed suit. For awhile the room was silent while the boys concentrated on filling their empty stomachs; then they looked at each other once they'd worked their way through most of their individual pizzas.

"Now what?" Doug asked expectantly, tipping back the last drops of his beer.

"Well, how 'bout the pool?" Cody suggested. "It was in the brochures, and there were some seriously hot babes in the pictures. Once we get there and see some we like, all we have to do is make our wishes, and they're ours."

"I'm too full to move," Sean said. "Do we have to walk?"

"Hell, no," Doug said with a wide grin. "Watch this." He went to the door, flung it open and declaimed to the four winds, "I wish there was a bright-red 1996 model Lamborghini sitting right here in the road in front of me." Instantly the car popped into existence before his very eyes; his friends stampeded to the door and stared at it, eyes huge.

"I hope that didn't vanish off some Italian car dealer's showroom floor," Peter mumbled, getting a collection of elbows in his sides for this observation. "Hey, come on, it had to come from somewhere, didn't it?" he protested. "Before our fantasy's over, we have to wish this thing away."

"Oh, fine, party pooper, but let's just enjoy it for now. It's a guaranteed chick magnet. Even with the wishing ability, it can't hurt to have the car too," Sean reasoned.

"You can wish it away later, Gibbons, since you're so worried about these things," Doug said. "I can't wait to get to those women."

"We could at least put on swim trunks," Peter said, brushing pizza-crust crumbs off his shirt and Sean's. "We're not gonna look very good with pizza all over us."

"Okay, I wish I was wearing my swim trunks right now," Doug said impatiently, and with that there he stood before them, clad in his trunks and nothing more. "Happy?"

"You guys can have the wheels," Cody said lazily. "I got a better idea. I wish there was a brand-spankin'-new Harley-Davidson motorcycle sitting beside the Lamborghini." An instant later, there it was.

"This is the coolest thing ever," yelled Sean jubilantly. "I wish I had my trunks on too." As soon as this had occurred, he added, "Now can we get outta here?"

Within ten minutes, a gleaming red Lamborghini and a shiny black Harley had drawn up to the limited parking area beside the swimming pool, attracting the attention of most of the patrons gathered there. The four friends basked in the limelight, scanning the crowd for girls who particularly interested them, secure in the certainty that their weekend was going to be spectacular. How could it possibly fail?

Dusk was falling before they had had their fill of the extra attention brought on by the car and the motorcycle, and Peter at least had spied a young woman who particularly ignited his interest. It took awhile before his buddies noticed him furtively eyeing her now and then, and they figured out in very short order whom he was gazing at. "Looks like a wallflower," Sean said dismissively.

"She looks nice," Peter retorted. "I just don't think she'd want to be seen around me."

"True," Sean agreed, and Peter glowered at him. "But then again, that doesn't make any difference. Don't forget, you can just wish for her."

"That seems so…well, I mean, it feels like cheating," Peter said uncomfortably.

Cody stared at him impatiently. "What's with you, man? We thought you wanted to do this as much as we did, and now you're going chicken on us? Who died and made you our mother? You want the girl, Gibbons, then for cripes' sake wish for her, and tell your freakin' conscience to butt out!"

"You don't wish for her, you'll probably never get to meet her at all," Doug agreed matter-of-factly. "Not the way you are, Pete."

That remark made Peter decide he'd heard enough, and he peered with deliberate intent across several tables at the shy-looking blonde girl in a light-pink one-piece swimsuit. "I wish that girl would see me and be interested in me," he said aloud, at which his friends gave one another disgusted looks. Doug punched him in the arm.

But the wish worked, and the girl turned and looked straight at Peter, then smiled. Peter grinned back, and at the same time they both stood up and went to meet each other in the midst of the milling vacationers. Doug, Cody and Sean watched curiously; to tell the truth, they had seen too many pretty women to make any choices, so that they were now considerably chagrined by the fact that Peter was the first to actually make contact with a girl. As they watched, Peter and the girl struck up an animated conversation, which made the three of them look at one another.

"Enough of this crap," Cody said at length. "I'm going babe-trolling before that little nerd shows me up." He got up from the table and disappeared. Sean and Doug peered at each other, the one a little tipsy on assorted tropical decoctions, the other still fairly soused from the eight beers he had drunk through the course of the day thus far.

"I don't get why he doesn't just wish," said Sean presently, after a great deal of thought. "Like this. I wish three gorgeous women about 21 years old were standing around my chair, all of them crazy in lust with me."

Doug's mouth dropped open when three flawless young women blinked into existence around Sean's chair and promptly began to run their hands through his hair and over his chest and shoulders. Sean aimed a beatific smile at them all and said lazily, "Ladies, there's more than enough of me to go around, trust me."

"Geeeeeeez," Doug breathed softly, then grinned. "I wish…uh, for the exact same thing Sean just wished for." At which, three girls appeared around his chair and began to fawn all over him. He was so delighted with the attention—not to mention more than a bit fuzzy-headed from all the beer he'd drunk—that he never noticed his three girls looked like the identical twins to Sean's three.

Meantime, Peter had struck up a lively conversation with the girl, Kerry Denberg, and had gained so much confidence from this that he found the courage to ask, "Listen…would you be interested in having Thanksgiving dinner at my bungalow?"

Kerry brightened. "That sounds great! What time should I be there?"

Astonished at her acceptance, Peter almost forgot to follow through, and when she leaned forward quizzically, he finally found his voice. "Oh yeah, right! How 'bout seven?"

"I'll see you then," Kerry said happily. "Thanks, Peter, I'm really looking forward to it!"

"Me too," Peter agreed and watched her vanish into the crowd. He hoped Cody, Sean and Doug were having as much luck as he seemed to be. After some thought, he headed back for the bungalow he was sharing with them; he wanted to clean up and make himself presentable before Kerry arrived. He took a shower, used the bungalow's blow dryer on his hair, and dressed in the best clothing he had with him, which admittedly was no more formal than a pair of jeans without any holes and a brand-new University of Florida sweatshirt. He also went to the trouble of shaving; but when it came to the Thanksgiving dinner he'd promised Kerry, he knew he was in over his head and that there was only one way out. _What the heck,_ he thought, _it's our fantasy, after all!_ He checked his watch, noted that it was five till seven, and took a deep breath. "I wish there was a perfectly cooked Thanksgiving dinner for two waiting on the table," he said aloud, choosing his words carefully.

Two seconds later he caught the whiff of turkey and turned to the raised dining area. Sure enough, the table was laden with plenty of food, two place settings, and a bottle of wine; there were even lit tapers flanking the platter containing the turkey. Peter grinned widely and decided this wishing stuff wasn't all that bad.

Moments later there was a knock on the door and he let Kerry in; the two grinned shyly at each other, and he escorted her to the table. "Wow!" she exclaimed, taking in all the dishes. "This is beautiful! You weren't kidding when you promised Thanksgiving dinner. You must be a fabulous cook!"

"Oh, well…" Peter began, all set to tell her the truth, then hesitating. What good would that do him? Fantasy Island or not, she wasn't too likely to believe him. He might as well let it pass. It couldn't hurt to be thought of as a decent cook, he figured. "Well, how about we dig in? Uh, if you'll pour the wine, I'll carve the turkey."

She agreed, and in another five minutes or so they had filled their plates and were eating with gusto. The wine was excellent and the atmosphere romantic; soon Peter and Kerry both had relaxed and were carrying on an animated conversation. It turned out that Kerry attended the University of Iowa, the state where she had been born and raised, and was very interested in hearing about what it was like to live in Florida. "Well, I'm really from Wisconsin," Peter confessed. "I just didn't feel like going to college in a cold climate, so I picked the University of Florida. All four of us are from different parts of the country actually. Doug's a California boy, Sean's from the New York City area, and Cody hails from San Antonio. We met up in freshman year when we were frat pledges, and we've hung out ever since then."

"It's good to have friends," Kerry offered.

Peter shrugged. "Sometimes these guys get to me," he confided. "I mean, Cody's constantly flirting with the wrong side of the law. It's a wonder he hasn't gotten caught yet. Sean's got at least two little black books, and I swear his goal is to sleep with every girl on campus before we graduate. And Doug…I'm amazed the guy's still on the football team, what with all the drinking and partying he does. I tell you, I wish I had a nickel for every beer Doug's ever drunk since I first met him."

Kerry giggled, and at the same moment Peter felt a sudden weight settle on his feet. Momentarily confused, he peered under the table and was shocked to see his feet buried in a pile of coins. It was then that he went over his last few words and realized what he'd done, and looked back up to find Kerry eyeing him curiously. "You okay?" she asked.

"Oh, sure…" Peter said, improvising madly. "I, uh, thought I dropped something. I guess not. Say…uh, how about some music?"

"That sounds nice," Kerry agreed, smiling.

"So what do you like?" Peter inquired, raising his voice deliberately as he very care-fully began to dislodge his feet from the mound of nickels, talking fast about the bands he was into in the hope of distracting her and perhaps covering up the noise of clinking coins. She listened curiously, looking a little bemused but apparently not too suspicious. Finally his feet were free, and he swung out of the chair and trotted into the main room, still talking. "…and oh yeah, I'm kinda into some of the new British bands…I got a cousin whose dad is stationed over there and he's been sending me CDs." He snapped his mouth shut and stared at her in chagrin. "I never gave you a chance to tell me what you like."

Kerry burst out laughing and followed him into the main room. "That's all right," she said cheerfully. "I think you're a really nice guy, Peter Gibbons, and I'm glad I met you." She reached out and squeezed his hands, and he grinned sheepishly back, hoping only that she would somehow overlook the mountain of nickels under the table.


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- November 29, 1995

It had been an amazing Thanksgiving, they'd decided, and a great morning too. Cody had wished for a leather bomber jacket that should have cost hundreds of dollars, to go with the motorbike he'd conjured up the day before; Doug and Sean had clearly had quite a busy night and both wore highly satisfied grins. Peter felt pretty good himself; he'd met a really nice girl and had to use only a little of his wishing power to make a success of their date.

"I think I'm gonna wish for…" Sean began, then stopped. "Nah, wait, we already had pizza for breakfast yesterday. Maybe we could have bacon and eggs…"

"Naw, that's too healthy," scoffed Cody.

"Bacon isn't good for you," Peter said. "It's the fattiest meat I know of. I don't need any breakfast. Kerry and I had loads of Thanksgiving dinner last evening and I'm still full from that. Never mind breakfast."

"Well, then I want a…" Doug said, interrupted himself and sighed. "I already wished for that. What's the point of doin' it again?" He peered around the room. "Y'know something? I already wished for everything I want. There's nothing left."

"Are you sure?" Sean asked, looking amazed. "You can't be serious, dude. What about a perfect grade-point average for the rest of the year?"

"Already did that," Doug said. "Didn't you?"

Sean grinned. "Yeah, I did. Well, Banning, what about you?"

"I got only one thing left to wish for," Cody said, spearing Peter with a sour glare, "but Gibbons wouldn't let me. So I guess I'm done wishing too."

Peter glared right back at him. "You really think Leslie would give you the time of day? You saw Mr. Roarke give you the evil eye—he's onto you, and if you tried going after his daughter, he'd know without anyone having to tell him."

"Yeah? You think you know all about this place and that guy, don't you," Cody said, scowling. "How could Roarke possibly know?"

"He would," Doug assured him. "Give up, Banning, that woman isn't for you. She's gotta be ten years older than we are. Didn't you hook up with some tasty tropical babe last night? Aren't they good enough for you anymore?"

"Geez, they're a flippin' dime a dozen," Cody grumbled. "Or maybe a nickel a dozen." He aimed another poisonous look at Peter. "Speaking of nickels…"

Sean sat up and demanded, "Yeah, where'd you get all those freakin' things, anyway? You must have a hundred bucks' worth lying all over the table up there." The previous evening, Peter had wished away the remnants of the Thanksgiving dinner and spent a half hour scooping nickels off the floor and depositing them on the cleared table.

Peter squirmed in his chair and decided it was time to take himself elsewhere. "Oh, I…well, I wandered over to the casino for awhile after Kerry left and played some nickels I had in my pocket," he lied, amazed at how easily this came out. "Come to think of it, I just might try my luck again."

"What for?" said Doug, truly puzzled. "All you gotta do is wish for more money."

"It's not the money," Peter said, rising from his chair and heading for the table to load his pockets with nickels. "It's the fun of playing the game, and right now I need something to do anyway. You guys want to come with me?"

"Naw, no point in bothering with the casino when I can just wish for cash," Doug said. Sean and Cody also declined; Peter shrugged acceptance and continued stuffing coins into his pockets. His friends watched him in amusement while his pockets bulged farther and farther out till they would hold no more, and Peter finally made his way out with his hands crammed full of the overflow.

"Freakin' goody-two-shoes," Cody said with unexpected venom, making Sean and Doug exchange surprised looks. "I don't care what the little nerd says, I'm goin' for it. I'm gonna find Roarke's daughter." He got up from his seat.

"I think I'll come too," Sean decided. "Maybe on the way, I'll think of something else to wish for."

Doug lit up at that moment. "I got it!" he crowed. "I got it! I wish the entire Miami Dolphins cheerleading squad was here right this minute, admiring the heck out of me and competing to see who gets me first." No sooner was the last word out of his mouth than a dozen lovely, curvy young women all decked out in flashy cheerleading uniforms showed up from nowhere and began fussing loudly over a thoroughly ecstatic Doug.

"Cripes," Sean muttered. "We might as well blow this popcorn stand. Even if we tried to get in on the action, he'd never let us. Come on." He led the way out.

It took them most of two hours to finally find Leslie, and when they did, it turned out she was having lunch with four other young women at a small café in town. Cody gaped at them in disbelief, certain he had to be seeing things. One woman was pale blonde with the greenest eyes he had ever seen; another was an exotic-looking brunette with dusky skin and deer-like dark eyes; the other two were pretty Asian women with sleek, shiny black hair and lively black eyes, and resembled each other to a great extent.

Leslie saw his look and eyed him in amusement. "Something we can do for you, Mr. Banning?" she inquired with professional courtesy.

"Uh…" Cody mumbled, still stunned. "You got room for a couple more?"

Leslie shrugged. "Well, if you can find chairs…" she said, letting the sentence hang there without actually offering to let the boys join their party of five.

Cody turned to search for a chair, but stopped short when he saw the expression on Sean's face. Sean looked as if he'd been transported to another dimension, his eyes fixed on something; slowly Cody turned, managed to follow Sean's gaze and realized he was gawking at one of the Asian women. "What's with you?" he hissed at Sean.

Sean ignored him. "Uh, excuse me…I don't mean to interrupt. I was just wondering. My name's Sean Howard, nice to meet you…what's your name?"

_Gawd Almighty,_ thought Cody with exasperation, _his brain's been fried for sure. I never heard him give a woman such a square line before. He's losin' it!_ He began to hunt for an extra chair in the tiny, crowded café, determined to get through to Leslie Hamilton one way or another, Roarke or not.

‡ ‡ ‡

Leslie was hard put not to release her laughter; she met Myeko's gaze across the table and knew instantly that Myeko understood. Maureen and Tabitha had picked up on it as well, and they grinned with tolerant amusement. Myeko turned to her twenty-year-old sister, Sayuri, a college junior visiting home during the Thanksgiving break, and nudged her none too discreetly in the arm. "Come on, kid, let the poor guy off the hook."

Sayuri raised an eyebrow at her and regarded Sean curiously. "I'm Sayuri Sensei."

Sean grinned idiotically and leaned over the table between Tabitha and Leslie, all his attention on her. "You must be the most popular girl on campus, wherever you go to school. You ever have time for your courses in between dates?"

Leslie rested her forehead in one hand, fighting back her laughter. She knew Sayuri was no fool; to the contrary, Myeko's little sister was a very sharp young lady, and it was clear that she could see Sean Howard for what he was. "Plenty," Sayuri said, propping her chin on one hand and continuing to stare at him.

"Then in that case, you should have time to go out with me tonight," Sean said.

"Unfortunately I don't," Sayuri replied with a small, cool smile. "I'm here visiting my family, and I have to go back to school again Sunday. I intend to spend the whole weekend with my parents and my sister and niece and nephew." Her voice grew dry with a faint note of cynicism. "Don't feel too bad. I'm sure you'll find plenty of more willing company."

Cody had finally located a chair and now wedged himself in between Leslie and Maureen, smiling at the former. "You know, this is some operation you and your old man have here." Leslie, surprised out of her amusement, stared at him, realizing she had a whole new problem. She couldn't fathom this college kid's peculiar and inordinate interest in her. "I bet it keeps you in plenty of caviar, huh? What a life it must be."

He sounded genuinely interested, but she didn't like his manner of delivery, and his reference to Roarke as her "old man" particularly rankled. "Father and I do this because we enjoy it," she said, careful to maintain a polite tone, but unable to keep from leaning instinctively away from him. "Incidentally, how's your fantasy going?"

"Aw, it's okay," Cody said dismissively. "Aside from Wilde constantly wishing for beer and cheerleaders, anyway. So, what're you doing later this afternoon?"

"My job," Leslie said dryly.

"Mind if I come too?" Cody inquired.

"I'm afraid you'd be bored to death, and besides, I'm going to some places where only employees are allowed," Leslie told him. "As a matter of fact, I really do have to get going right now." She took in the whole group and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, folks, I've got to cut this short," she said.

"Oh, that's okay, we're finished anyway," Sayuri said, earning from her older sister an enormous grin that she pointedly ignored. "Could you drop me off at my parents' house?"

"I need to get back to Brianna anyway," Maureen said, rising.

"Time for me to go too," Tabitha said, and Myeko laughed out loud.

"Yeah, I gotta go relieve the babysitter. I hope it's okay if we all bum rides with you, Leslie," she said.

"Sure, come on," Leslie said and gave Cody an impersonal little smile. "Have a good afternoon, and if you need anything, just ask my father." So saying, she led a small parade out of the café, leaving behind two slack-jawed young lotharios who had both been all too sure of their impending conquests.

"Damn, dude, I think we just got shot down," Sean said incredulously once the five women had disappeared from sight.

"So we keep tryin'," Cody said. He couldn't explain his attraction to Leslie Hamilton; it was just there, and it kept pulling his attention in the way he would have probed for a missing tooth with his tongue. "I can't believe those hot babes she's got for friends. Who'da thought? I mean, I don't think I've seen even one ugly girl on this entire island."

"Oh yeah, dude," Sean agreed blissfully. "And Sayuri Sensei's the hottest babe of them all. She is _it,_ man."

Cody gave him a sharp look. "What're you, retarded? Why didn't you just wish for her? She coulda been yours without all that mooning around and those stupid lines."

Sean stared at him warily for a very long minute or so, then finally confessed, "I was thinking about it…but I didn't dare, not with Leslie sitting right there. I mean, no matter how I tried to put it, she'd know what I was up to."

"Why should she care?" Cody asked, bewildered.

"Because that other Asian girl looked like her sister, and it was pretty obvious that the sister was a friend of Leslie's. At least it was obvious to me, even if you couldn't figure it out on account of drooling all over Leslie." Sean got up and returned Cody's fiery glare two-fold. "We might as well make tracks, dude, since we got no place else to go."

"I'm not drooling all over Leslie," Cody said, trying for dignity but falling far short. "I just think she's the hottest thing going."

"Except for Sayuri, that is," Sean put in, and Cody rolled his eyes, which sparked an argument between them over Leslie's and Sayuri's respective assets that lasted them all the way to the pool.

While all this had been going on, Peter had found the casino, which turned out to be filled with American tourists from seemingly every state in the union, and had cruised the entire building for almost twenty minutes before he finally found an unoccupied nickel slot machine. He settled down and began feeding the machine nickels, not caring at first that it swallowed them greedily with very little or no return. But in about fifteen minutes he had emptied one pocket and gone halfway through the other, and had almost nothing to show for his efforts. Annoyed, he thumped a fist against the machine.

"Geez," he complained, "this is such a bummer! I wish you'd pay off for a change, even just a little bit!" He poked three more coins into the slot and pulled the handle, upon which the machine emitted a frenetic electronic beeping and nickels began showering out of the return slot. Peter grinned widely, watching them fall, prepared to wait for the machine to empty itself out. However, it stopped after only a couple of minutes; and he sat up, a little disappointed, squinting at the digital readout that showed the amount won. His "jackpot" consisted of exactly $38.55.

"Aw well, it's better than nothing," he decided with a sigh and scooped nickels into a cup, adding the ones still in his pocket. He might as well quit now before he fell even further behind. He got up and toted his cup to the payout window, getting back a total of $51.45 for his efforts. _Maybe I should have just done what Doug said earlier and wished for the money, _Peter thought as he left the casino, _but I can't think of anything else I really want to wish for, and I already wished my parents could have the money they need to pay the rest of my tuition. So what's the point?_ He shrugged to himself and strolled aimlessly along one path after another, till he eventually wound up in front of the bungalow.

"Hey, Pete, you win big?" yelled Sean's voice, and he turned in front of the steps to see Sean and Cody headed in his direction.

"Nah, lost about half my supply," Peter said with a shrug. "At least I have some cash left to get me home. Where've you been?"

"Around," said Cody. "We saw Leslie and some friends of hers at a café in town, and I gotta tell you, she's just as hot as I thought she was the first time I saw her."

"She has this friend whose sister is out of this world," Sean put in eagerly. "Absolutely gorgeous Japanese girl. What I wouldn't give to have her."

"For a night, just like all the others," said Peter, and Cody snickered.

"No, dude, you don't understand! That's the hottest and most incredible woman I've ever seen," Sean insisted. "I don't want her just for a one-night stand, I want her for good."

"Or as long as she'd have you," Peter parried. Cody snorted a laugh, and Peter grinned acknowledgement. "Come on, Howard, you never stay with a girl long enough to even find out what her name is sometimes."

"That's a lie," Sean said, all affronted innocence. "What're you pickin' on me for, dude? Banning's after Roarke's daughter again, and I keep telling him to back off, but he thinks I'm full of hot air."

Peter stared at Cody. "Why're you so hung up on Leslie Hamilton? She must be at least ten years older than we are. Sure, she's nice-looking, but she's out of your league."

"She's head and shoulders above all the other women lurking around here," Cody said heatedly. "She's got class."

"That makes her too good for you," Peter remarked, touching off a loud guffaw from Sean. "Come on, Banning, give it up. Pick on someone your own size, willya? By the way, what happened to Wilde?"

"Last we saw him, he was throwing himself at the Miami Dolphins cheerleaders," Sean replied. "I wonder if he's found any he likes, so we can get in on the fun."

"Thought you wanted that Japanese babe," Cody taunted, earning a dirty look from Sean. Peter hit Cody in the arm and opened the door, then stopped short in amazement. From behind him Cody said impatiently, "What's your problem, Gibbons?"

"You gotta be kidding," Peter said. Cody and Sean crowded in on either side of him and found themselves staring as well. The main room of the bungalow was crammed with people jabbering loudly and excitedly; in the middle of it all, Doug Wilde held court, seated in an easy chair, scrawling on pieces of paper, photos, footballs, people's arms, whatever was presented to him.

"What the hell's he doin', dude?" Sean demanded.

Peter's eyebrows shot up another inch or two. "Looks to me like he's signing autographs…but what for?"

At that point Doug happened to look up and spot his friends at the door, and he waved madly at them, beaming. Peter, Cody and Sean looked at one another, then struggled into the room through the crowd, shouldering their way along till they finally reached Doug. "Hey, man, whaddaya think?" Doug bellowed happily.

"What's going on around here? Where'd all these people come from?" Peter shouted.

"Ain't it great?" Doug yelled. "Never had so many admirers."

"What're they doing here, Wilde?" Cody roared in his ear.

Doug's grin should have split his lower jaw right off his face. "I made a wish that I was a pro football star," he said and turned aside to scribble his name on someone's T-shirt while his friends looked at one another.

"I wish all these people would go away," Sean announced deliberately, and the crowd instantly disappeared, leaving Doug standing there holding a marker in mid-air. For a split second Doug looked comically confused; then he seemed to realize what had happened and turned to glare at them.

"You got rid of my fans, didn't you?" he demanded accusingly.

"Guilty as charged," Sean told him. "Man, dude, can't you think of anything better to wish for than that?"

"What's wrong with that?" Doug wanted to know. "We got us a whole weekend to wish for anything we want—Mr. Roarke didn't say we could wish for only certain things. If I feel like wishing to be a football star, then I got a right!"

"That's all you care about, is football," Cody said, disgusted. "You could have money, you could have women, cars, fame and fortune—"

"I did wish for fame—I just had it, you retard," Doug yelled.

"As a flippin' jock, for cryin' out loud!" Cody yelled back. "You gotta be the biggest bore I ever met, Wilde…you've wished for nothing but beer and football the whole time we've been here! What is it with you? You don't get enough beer and football at school?"

"And you're any better, wishing for Roarke's daughter all over the place?" Doug shot back. By now the two of them were in each other's faces, both furious.

"That's none of your beeswax," Cody said.

"Oh yes it is," Peter interjected. "Mr. Roarke himself warned you off her, but you just won't listen, Banning."

"What're you, Jiminy Freaking Cricket?" Cody hollered. "Lay off me!"

In a few more seconds the four of them had gotten into a shouting match that all but rattled the walls, each taunting the others about their respective hang-ups and perceived failings, each defending his own desires to the others. When Doug threatened to wish for his "fans" back, it turned out to be the last straw for Cody. "Dammit, Wilde, I wish you'd take a flying leap!"

Doug vanished in a twinkling, and Sean, Peter and Cody were promptly shocked into silence. Cody looked particularly stunned.

"Man, dude, I'd sure like to see what you did to him," Sean remarked into the heavy quiet. "When he gets back, he'll probably kill you."

"And you weren't even right when you said he's wished for nothing but football and beer," Peter added. Remember, Doug's the one who got us that Lamborghini."

"Like I cared about that thing," Cody snarled. "I wanted a Harley, so I wished for it."

"Yeah, that's it, play up the bad-guy image," Peter taunted. "That's really the way to get Leslie Hamilton to notice you, all right! The way you're going, I won't have to worry about you ever actually getting her interested in you!"

"I've had it up to here with you, Gibbons, and if you don't watch it, you're gonna regret every sorry word that comes outta your mouth," Cody warned. Peter snorted, and once again an argument sprang up. The three of them completely forgot about Doug.


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- November 29, 1995

One second Doug Wilde had been in a bungalow bellowing at Cody Banning; the next second he found himself standing in the doorway to space. There was a roaring all around him; the wind sluiced by at an inhuman speed; and there was, quite literally, nothing but empty air above and below. "You're off, buddy, good luck!" yelled a voice, and someone shoved him right out the door and into nothing.

Instantly Doug began to scream, arms and legs flailing uncontrollably. Far below him lay the placid blue South Pacific, adorned with a large patch of emerald green ringed by the gray of cliffs and the white of sandy beaches. Doug's panic increased in multiples as he finally came to the realization that he was skydiving, and that green patch down there was Fantasy Island, where just seconds before he'd been standing safely on terra firma. How had he wound up here, plummeting to certain death?

"Don't let me die, don't let me die!" he chanted frantically. "Oh man oh man oh man, how'd I get up here, I don't wanna be here, oh man, I wish like hell I was on the ground right now, oh man oh man…"

Blink: and he stood miraculously on solid earth once more. Disoriented, he stumbled aside a few steps and toppled over in a graceless heap, where he lay panting, staring glassily into space, slowly gathering his wits together. It took him the better part of half an hour to calm down enough to think back on what had happened and to realize that Cody Banning, the filthy, dirty bum, had wished him up there in the first place. He couldn't wait to get his hands on the guy; he was going to positively kill him! In control of himself once again, he climbed to his feet and snarled to no one in particular, "I wish I had my hands around Cody Banning's neck…"

Which is precisely where he found himself a millisecond later. His abrupt reappearance in the bungalow startled Sean and Peter half to death, and they both leaped back, blurting "Whoa!" in perfect tandem. Cody, his neck trapped in Doug's increasingly viselike grip, gagged and wheezed in desperation, his eyes bulging.

"Help," Cody croaked, turning red and struggling to breathe. Peter came back to life first and tried to pry Doug's hands off Cody's neck, to no avail.

"Sean, help me out here…he's gonna strangle him!" Peter exclaimed.

"That's the idea," Doug grunted.

Sean joined in the effort to remove Doug's hands. "Come on, Wilde, turn him loose. You don't want to spend the rest of your life in prison for murder, do ya? And don't forget, Florida's got the death penalty."

"I can just wish the creep back to life," Doug growled, "and then I can kill him again."

"No, come on! You don't even know if this wishing goes that far," Peter cried. Cody gagged again and fought in vain to draw breath; his face was almost purple by now. "You gotta let go, Doug…suppose Mr. Roarke—"

"What're you gonna do, tattle on me?" Doug sneered, at which point Cody's eyes rolled back in his head and he sagged toward the floor. Thoroughly surprised, Doug let go and watched him fall. Sean and Peter heaved relieved sighs.

"Jerk," Doug said, standing there looking down at an unconscious Cody. "He deserved it after what he did to me."

"What happened?" Sean asked.

"I was _skydiving,"_ Doug informed him with narrowed eyes. "I thought my life was over. I just wanted to return the favor."

"Skydiving? No way," Sean scoffed, laughing.

Doug turned and advanced on him. "You wanna be next, Howard?"

On the floor, Cody stirred and cautiously opened his eyes, breathing deeply; Peter heard him and looked down. "You okay?"

"Maybe. What'd he say happened?" Cody asked in a hoarse whisper.

"He said he was skydiving," Peter told him.

Cody snorted. "No way. How could he be doin' that?"

"You had a death wish on me, Banning, didn'tcha?" Doug broke in, having noticed that Cody was awake. "I oughta kill you for that."

"Oh, chill out," Cody rasped, gingerly clearing his throat. "There's no way you were falling through the sky. Tell me another one. How could I do that?"

"Guys," Peter said uneasily, catching their attention. "I think he's right. Think about it, Cody, you did make that wish—and this whole fantasy is all about wish fulfillment. As soon as you said it, it happened."

"Yeah, but skydiving?" Sean protested.

"He said a 'flying leap'," Peter pointed out. "What do you think skydiving is?"

This shut his friends up long enough to ponder the idea. At length Sean said, "Well, maybe it was just some weird fluke. I mean…it's not like anyone got hurt or anything."

"It coulda been, yeah," Cody croaked hopefully.

Doug glared down at him, but at long last conceded, "Okay, maybe. But you better watch your mouth, Banning, or I swear I'll clue Roarke in on the fact that you've got the hots for his daughter."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Truce, truce! Like Cody said, why don't we just chill out?"

"Yeah, yeah, all right." Doug sighed heavily and flopped across the sofa, looking drained. "Man, I'm beat. I sure wish I had a beer." Groans emanated from his friends as he popped the top on the bottle that obligingly appeared and drank deeply.

‡ ‡ ‡

By suppertime the four boys had decided that what they needed was a classic Friday-night party to break the cycle of boredom and bolster their spirits. "You figure out what we need, Gibbons, and Sean and Doug and I'll hit the pool and invite all the girls over," Cody decided. Peter shrugged agreement, figuring that if he was in charge of setting the party up, he could keep things on an even keel and prevent the party from getting too far out of hand. So far this weekend, their hosts had left them to their own devices, which rang a couple of vague warning chimes in the back of Peter's brain but otherwise suggested to him that they trusted him and his friends. Well, him anyway, since he was trying to keep the others in line, albeit without a whole lot of success.

It should have been easy, actually. They got the idea for the party not too much past five o'clock; by eleven, it was an entirely different scene from what Peter had originally envisioned. Peter had called up Kerry Denberg at the hotel and invited her and her three roommates to the party; then he had wished up snacks, dip, soda, beer (to keep Doug happy), plenty of music of all kinds, and a few dozen pizzas. That had seemed like more than enough to him. However, when Sean, Doug and Cody had returned, they pronounced it far too tame and added some modifications to the setup. Doug wished up a bunch of video games, most of them sports-related, and a 52-inch wide-screen television on which to play them. Sean, thinking to get some of the female attendees "in the mood" as he put it, wished for some decidedly steamy movies to watch; when Doug protested that it would interrupt the video games, Sean impatiently made a wish for a second 52-inch widescreen to play the films. And Cody, having surveyed the table full of refreshments, wished in several varieties of hard liquor to help spice things up, in his words.

Now, Peter stood on the terrace with Kerry by his side, ruefully surveying the raucous mêlée that roared on within the crowded bungalow. "That's really some party," Kerry said a little timidly, following his gaze. "It's getting kind of wild for me, actually."

"Me too, to tell the truth," Peter admitted. "I'd suggest we leave, except I gotta keep a lid on Sean and Cody and Doug. If they see I'm gone, it might actually get worse."

"Why doesn't anyone complain? I'd have thought Mr. Roarke would've been here ages ago," Kerry said frankly. "Either him or the police."

"Nothing illegal's happened yet, as far as I know," Peter said, wondering if the statement was a lie even as it slipped out of his mouth. It was bordering on illegal already, if he wasn't mistaken. He and his three friends were all twenty-one, but he wasn't sure if all the guests were of age. And with Cody around, who knew what else even worse than all the whiskey, vodka, rum and tequila would be added to the mix?

"I'd really rather not stay here," Kerry said nervously, and Peter turned to face her at the faintly shaky timbre of her voice. He smiled.

"This really scares you, huh?" he asked.

She nodded. "I guess you think I'm just a wet blanket, but I'm not used to parties like this. I hate beer, I don't like drinking all that much, and crowds bother me."

Peter considered the situation for a moment. True, his buddies would probably view his absence as a license to do anything they liked, and there was an excellent chance they would utterly trash the place. But their fantasy was to wish for anything they wanted, wasn't it? When he got back, all he had to do was wish the whole debacle away. Conscience appeased, he focused on her and smoothed her hair with a smile. "Okay," he said, "what say to a stroll on the beach?" Truth be told, he'd been hoping for a chance to be alone with her anyway, to see if they had something more than a weekend fling going for them.

"I'd love that," Kerry said with a bright smile, and Peter was hooked. Without further ado, he slipped an arm around her waist and escorted her away.

At the main house, Roarke and Leslie were both up late, having dealt with a couple of minor emergencies and preparing to retire for the night. They'd just arisen to go up the steps when the door burst open and six or seven very irritated vacationers filled the entry foyer, glaring, hands on hips.

"May we help you?" Roarke inquired.

"I should hope so!" blustered a portly older woman, decked out in yards of pale-blue silk studded with crystals; she and her companions evidently had been at the supper club for the formal dance that had been held there that evening. "Really, Mr. Roarke, I thought you ran a high-class operation here…and what did we see going back to our accommodations but a wild party being thrown by thugs! Are those…creatures guests of yours?"

"Which bungalow was that, Mrs. Deminger?" Roarke asked.

"It was a little one set back in the trees," the woman said. "There was no sign out front giving its name, but believe me, I'll never forget which one it was. If you expect us to give you any sort of recommendation, Mr. Roarke, then you'll put a stop to it immediately!"

"I assure you, we will do all we can to halt it as soon as humanly possible," Roarke said patiently, nodding and smiling slightly. "These events are quite rare here, in fact. I do hope your stay here has been otherwise satisfactory."

"Very much so, Mr. Roarke," spoke up one of the other patrons, a man dressed in a tux and top hat and wielding a cane. "I'm afraid Marjorie gets rather high-strung when she's confronted by disturbances. Don't worry, she'll calm down once it's been taken care of. You truly do have a wonderful resort here, and we'll definitely recommend it to all our friends. I'm sure this is just a little deviation."

"Of course, of course," Roarke said, his smile developing fully. "I sincerely thank you for your praise, Mr. Deminger, and rest assured we'll look into the situation immediately." He turned to his daughter. "Leslie, if you would, please?"

"All right," she said, a wry expression on her features. "Should I take my megaphone?"

The group in the foyer laughed and Roarke's smile became a grin. "Once again, my apologies. I'm very pleased that you have been enjoying yourselves, and I hope the remainder of your evening is a most pleasant one."

"I'm sure it will be," someone else said, smiling. "Okay, we've reported the problem, people. Let's get back to the supper club—I'm up for some more dancing." The guests made their way back out, and Leslie found a car key and slipped out after them. There was, of course, no need to ask which bungalow was hosting the party.

Even before she rounded the last corner on the lane where the bungalows were grouped, she could hear the music, the yelling, the laughter. "Good Lord," she muttered, stopping the car just past the bend and staring at the brightly lit bungalow. Even as she watched, some unidentifiable object crashed through one of the front windows and sailed over the little lawn out front to land in the middle of the lane.

"Ridiculous," she muttered, annoyed. She'd heard college reminiscences from her friends over the years, particularly from Camille and Myeko who had both attended parties like this, but she had always privately thought they'd been exaggerating at least a little. "I guess they weren't. Okay, Leslie Susan, put on your suit of armor and confront the enemy." She grinned to herself at her own little pep talk, parked the car and killed the engine, and marched up to the bungalow door. In the wake of the broken window, the cacophony within had risen quite a distance up the decibel scale, and she realized she might really need that megaphone she had joked about.

She didn't bother knocking; proprieties seemed ludicrous in light of the current events. She simply opened the door and stared in wonder at the scene before her. People were dancing to the music; two enormous television sets were muted but showing pictures, one of a video football game, the other of what appeared to be a soft-core porn film that made her roll her eyes; other kids were eating, drinking, arguing, cracking jokes, yelling, laughing, passed out drunk on the sofa or floor, occasionally making out in some not-so-dark corner. She picked out Sean Howard leaning against the wall, a buxom young woman in each arm; Doug Wilde, riveted to the video game which he was playing against three other guys; and Cody Banning, a bottle of tequila in one hand and what looked like a cigarette in the other, surrounded by a group of scantily-dressed girls and a couple of leather-clad guys. The room itself was the worst mess she had ever seen: puddles of liquids, broken glass, bits of food everywhere (including, in a few cases, stuck to the walls), crushed cigarette butts, the odd article of clothing. A pall of blue-gray smoke hung thick in the air.

Before she had quite finished taking it all in, an argument beside the refreshment table abruptly escalated when one of the participants grabbed a bowl of dip and slammed it down atop the head of another. At least half a dozen people saw this happen and apparently considered it a signal. The next moment, it was a full-blown food fight, and blizzards of chips and other edibles joined the smoke in the air.

"This is hopeless," Leslie muttered to herself. She stood and thought it over for a moment, then got an idea and hoped it would work. Still unseen by the partygoers, she slipped over to the wall beside the door and peered behind the painting hanging there.

"_I WIN!"_ roared Doug Wilde's voice, distracting her long enough to make her turn and stare in his direction. She was just in time to see him stand up and brandish a victorious fist over his head before grinning stupidly and collapsing senseless across the coffee table that held the video-game console and controls. The picture on the TV screen contorted and bucked, then vanished in electronic snow.

Gritting her teeth, Leslie lifted the painting off the wall and opened a small door, surveying the interior for a moment before reaching out and flipping a switch. Both television sets and the CD player died, along with half the lights, and a loud collective groan went up, mixed with a lot of voices blurting, "Huh?"

"Aw, man," she heard Cody Banning moan and smirked secretly to herself before turning to confront the scene. Cody recognized her and stared sickly at her.

"So whose idea was this?" Leslie asked conversationally.

Sean wiggled away from his female companions and Cody set the tequila bottle on the table; both of them approached her, looking oddly like small boys caught with their hands in the cookie jar. "What happened?" Sean asked.

"I shut off a fuse," Leslie said with a genial smile. "Which one of you thought this up?"

"We all did," Cody said, peering at her with a sheepish look that was totally at odds with his bad-boy appearance and demeanor. "We needed a distraction."

Leslie eyed him. "I see," she murmured, almost inaudibly; behind them, the noise of the party was gradually welling back up to its former explosive level, despite the silent electronic gadgets. "Well, I assume you know what to do to get rid of this. We just had some complaints from some other guests. If you fix the problem right away, I'll keep this to myself and Father might not cancel your fantasy."

"But we need it to clean this up," Sean protested, alarmed.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Leslie inquired, overly sweetly. It was then that she got a whiff of the smoke wafting up from Cody's cigarette and made a face at the curiously sweet odor. "What in the heck are you puffing on, Banning?"

Cody actually turned red. "It's just a little joint," he said meekly, lifting it and displaying it at her. Before she quite knew it, Leslie had gotten a full snoutful of the smoke, which made her cough and stumble back a step or two. Her eyes went wide and she stared blankly at him.

Sean gasped. "Put that damn thing out, dude," he ordered frantically. "You're gonna get her higher than a satellite, and Roarke'll dismember us."

Cody cursed in a mild panic and dropped the thing on the floor, stomping on it with one black leather boot, grinding it into the tile for rather longer than he really needed to. Leslie watched him in fascination, wondering why his foot suddenly looked as big as that of King Kong. She saw Sean nudge Cody, who stared forlornly at Leslie and said plaintively, "I wish Leslie had no effects from that joint, and…"

Before he could finish, Leslie felt her head clear, and she stood up straight and glared at him. "Marijuana's as illegal on Fantasy Island as it is in the States," she informed him frostily. "You better keep that in mind if you want me to keep your secret. I'm sure you know what to do about all this." She whipped around and stalked out the door.

Behind her she heard Cody dejectedly finish his interrupted wish. "…and that she wouldn't be mad at me for it." He sighed heavily; she rolled her eyes to herself and all but ran for the car, in case he had something even worse waiting in the wings.

Once the car's taillights had disappeared down the lane, Sean turned to Cody and said urgently, "Look, dude, we need to clean this up pronto. We still have two days here, and if Roarke cancels our fantasy, we're gonna be bored beyond belief. And man, where's Gibbons? Haven't seen him for at least an hour."

"I dunno," Cody said impatiently. "You sayin' we have to wait for him before we clean this up? You heard what Leslie said. If we do it now, she won't tell Roarke, and we'll still have our fantasy."

Sean paused to look more closely at him and suddenly grinned. "Man, you have got it _baaaaa-aaaad,"_ he pronounced with great amusement. "Trust me, dude, you're wasting your time. Leslie's seen you in your natural state by now—you're way past impressing her. You might as well just give it up."

"No way," Cody said, narrow-eyed. "I can be different, and I'll prove it to her."

Sean threw his hands in the air. "Geez, you really _are_ retarded. Will you quit obsessing over that chick for five minutes and help me clean this up?"

Before Cody could say anything, the door opened and Peter came in, without Kerry, whom he had dropped off at her hotel. "Wow!" he said, staring.

"That's not the word," Sean said. "Dude, you just missed Leslie coming in here and giving us hell for this disaster. If we clean it up now, she won't tell Roarke."

"Oh, man," Peter muttered, then sniffed the air and gave Cody a suspicious look. "You been smoking joints again, Banning?"

"Yep, and he almost got Leslie high on one," Sean reported.

"Way to go," Peter said ironically, rolling his eyes.

Cody glared at them. "Maybe," he suggested sarcastically, "you can quit judging me long enough to get this damn mess cleaned up. Every second we stand here gabbing is another second closer to Leslie telling Roarke what's been going on here. We need to do this in stages so we can be sure all the damage is fixed."

"Yeah, but where do we start?" Sean asked helplessly.

Peter cleared his throat and said with deliberation, "I wish all the guests at this party were gone." Everyone in the room promptly vanished, leaving only Doug sprawled in an extremely uncomfortable-looking heap across the coffee table, snoring like a motorboat.

"Ow, that's gotta hurt," Sean said, lightly sympathetic. "Okay, now what?"

"What've you been drinking, Howard?" Peter said impatiently. "You might as well let me handle this." He stepped fully into the room and took in the chaotic scene before him, then said, "How come it's so dark in here?"

"Oh yeah, Leslie shut down a fuse," Sean remembered. "Gimme a minute." He went to the open fuse box, found the switch in question and flipped it. The lights came on, the TV sets flared into bright life, and the CD player began blasting again. Peter shot Sean a killing look and charged over to silence it.

"Cripes," he muttered and blew out his breath. "Okay, uh…I wish all the food and drinks were gone." The table cleared, but the floor and walls were still a mess, so he wished them clean, then proceeded to wish away the TV sets, video games, dirty movies and broken window. His last act was to wish the hanging smoke out of the air.

"Whatta we do about him?" Cody asked, sighing with relief and regarding Doug still draped across the coffee table.

"Easy. I wish…" Sean began, but Peter bounded across the room and slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Don't even think it," he warned. "The way things've been going, if you wish Doug in bed, he'll wind up in his own bed back at school. We might as well exert ourselves a little bit and just carry him in so he won't feel like a contortionist when he wakes up."

"Suits me," Sean said with a shrug. "But he can wish away his own damn hangover in the morning." Peter and Cody grinned agreement.


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- November 30, 1995

The foursome sat around the table, which was laden with breakfast dreamed up by Peter and included eggs, bacon, sausage, oatmeal, toast, waffles, pancakes and cold cereal. Doug, who had successfully rid himself of a monumental hangover, was packing away more food than any of the others, though he complained now and again about not getting to have a beer with the meal after his three friends had all expressed varying degrees of disgust and nausea at the very idea. As Sean said, "You gotta have _some_ standards, dude."

"So what're we doin' today?" asked Cody, unusually subdued after his negative run-in with Leslie the previous night.

Peter thought it over. "The travel brochure said there's a big luau for all the guests every Saturday night," he said. "So that's one thing we can do."

"Yeah, well, it's only eleven in the morning now," Doug pointed out. "What happens till then? Got any suggestions, Mr. Cruise Director?"

"Geez, why do you need excitement around every corner?" Peter demanded, at the end of his rope. "This is a vacation, you idiot. Go lie on the beach and scope out women or something, and quit looking for something outrageous to wish for. Take a break already!"

"Y'know, the beach isn't a bad idea," Cody mused. "I gotta think awhile anyway and see if I can repair the damage."

The others knew what he meant and ignored him, having decided it was useless to try to convince him he had no chance with Leslie. "Why don't we hit the pool? We oughta actually try some swimming this time," Sean offered. "All we did last time was ogle babes. And if we get in the pool, one of those babes might wind up drowning and we can be heroes and save her life."

Peter snickered. "Dream on," he said, "but if I were you, I wouldn't wish for it and wind up torturing some poor innocent girl. No wonder that Japanese girl you flipped out over didn't want to be seen with you. You're right back playing the field."

Sean, reminded, let out a gusty sigh of depression. "Thanks, Gibbons, just what I needed—you mentioning her when I'm trying to forget her."

He was reminded again not long thereafter, when he and Peter and Doug headed for the pool while Cody struck out for the beach. As they ambled along a trail, he spied none other than Sayuri Sensei, holding the hand of a small boy and carrying an even smaller girl, taking a leisurely walk along another path that intersected with the one they were on. He dropped behind, letting Peter and Doug get some ways ahead of him, then loitered in the crossroad till Sayuri and the children caught up. Sean smiled at her. "Hi, Sayuri."

She peered at him. "Hi, uh…" There was some recognition in her eyes, but it was clear she couldn't remember his name.

Nothing daunted, Sean stuck out his hand. "Sean Howard. We met yesterday."

"Right," said Sayuri, shaking his hand for the briefest possible moment.

"Cute kids," Sean offered, though the toddlers didn't interest him in the least.

"My sister Myeko's children," said Sayuri. "It's actually about time I got them back home, we've already been out here nearly an hour."

Sean brightened. "I'll walk with you," he said eagerly. She eyed him doubtfully, but acquiesced with some reluctance and started back down the path the way she'd come. For a few minutes there was an awkward silence while Sean tried to sift through all the practiced lines he normally used on girls, in the hope of finding something meaningful to say to her. All he could come up with in the end was, "So where are you going to school?"

"University of Hawaii," Sayuri replied. "I'm in my junior year. You?"

"Senior at the University of Florida," Sean supplied eagerly, "majoring in engineering. I always had this thing about how stuff works, see, and…" He prattled on for another few minutes while Sayuri listened with strained patience. He could tell by her expression that she wanted to get away from him, but he kept trying.

"…and so I decided to make it my career," Sean concluded breathlessly. "How about you? I'd really like to hear more about you, Sayuri, honest…think we could do that over lunch?" She shook her head, and he pressed desperately, "What about the luau tonight?"

Sayuri sighed deeply. "Sean, I'm sure you're a nice guy and there's probably no shortage of girls who'd be thrilled to go to the luau with you. But I'm not one of them, and those girls are the reason." He gaped at her, and she raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Come on, Sean, did you really think I didn't have you pegged as a ladies' man from the first? You're like a pane of glass. You might have noble intentions for your professional life, but you have the attitude of a guy who can't stand the idea of settling down."

"Not anymore," Sean insisted. "I swear to you, Sayuri, the moment I saw you, that changed. I can't think about anybody but you. I don't know what happened, but it's true."

"Sorry," Sayuri said with a tiny half-smile. "I've heard too many guys say things just like that and then renege on them. Forget it, Sean. Hope you have a nice vacation." She tugged at her nephew's hand and headed away down the trail.

Sean stared after her; by the time he recovered, she was too far away to call back, and he stomped toward the pool, swearing up a storm. _Just for that,_ he thought furiously, _I'll live down to her lousy expectations of me and find ten women to hang out with at that luau tonight! She's so sure she's got me pegged, I might as well prove her right!_

He located Doug at an umbrella-shaded table near the pool; there was already one empty beer bottle in front of him, and he was steadily reducing the contents of a second one. Sean thudded into a chair and glared blackly around him. "Problem?" asked Doug, then let out a loud burp that made people turn and stare with disapproval. "Oh, pardon me."

"I struck out with Sayuri Sensei again," Sean grumbled. "Hell, now I wish I had a beer." He grabbed the bottle that materialized in front of him and tilted it back.

"Way to go," Doug said with approval and burped again, even more loudly. "Whatcha gonna do about it then?"

Sean looked around. "I need to find about ten women to come to the luau with me." He fielded Doug's skeptical grin and sighed. "Damn, dude, even one'd do."

Doug finished his beer, wished up another and drank deeply from it. After awhile he remarked very thoughtfully, "Y'know, you could just wish that the perfect woman would show up at this table."

"I'd have to describe her," Sean mused, staring without seeing into his beer bottle, formulating an image in his mind. "Just so I could be sure she's exactly what I want. I mean, if I'm gonna wish for a woman, I might as well wish for my dream woman." He paused, glanced around again, then grinned and began to recite. "I wish that a woman with long, thick red hair, huge green eyes, legs from here to Mars, a size 38 double-D chest, and a really sexy voice would show up and ask me to stay with her at her place tonight after the luau."

Doug smirked, only to find himself gaping when the most frightening apparition they had ever seen materialized beside Sean's chair. The well-endowed redhead lay on her back, gazing at Sean with wide green eyes. Her legs started at her hips and stretched up…and up…and up… Slowly their eyes followed the never-ending legs till they vanished into the farthest reaches of the sky. They had no doubt that said legs did indeed reach all the way to Mars, and they shuddered. The crowd had begun to react with screams and shouts, pointing in horror.

"I wish this woman would disappear right now," Sean blurted, and the leggy female was gone as suddenly as she had appeared. Sean blew out his breath and rested his head in his hands. "Damn, dude, that was brutal!"

"Man, after that, I think I need to get outta here," Doug decided. "You with me?"

"Hell yeah," Sean said, looking very rattled by the strange experience they'd just gone through, and arose from the table. They paused only long enough to acknowledge Peter's hail as they passed him.

"Where you guys going, to the beach?" Peter asked as they lumbered by.

"Uh, no…we gotta see Mr. Roarke about something," Sean said hastily, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. "You gonna come?" He and Doug barreled out of the area without waiting for his reply.

"I think they've been drinking too much," Peter muttered, sure he couldn't be far off the mark. He'd seen the woman with the endless legs, and had no doubt that whichever one had wished for her must have had several drinks too many. Then he came back to reality with a start and ran from the pool area. He, too, wanted to question Roarke.

But when he caught up with his friends and they had reached the main house, they found only Leslie therein. She looked up and spotted the three boys in the foyer. "What can I do for you fellows?"

"Uh…is Mr. Roarke around?" Doug asked.

Leslie shook her head, taking in their collectively unnerved demeanor. "Not at the moment, I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

"It's just that…well, we been wondering for a while now exactly how literal this wishing business is," Sean finally said. "Maybe you could tell us."

Leslie regarded them with some dread, and after a long moment she asked slowly, "What happened that made you ask that?"

"The ugliest thing we ever saw, that's what," Doug informed her. "Worse than any horror movie, and it was all Howard's fault." He proceeded to describe Sean's last wish, and she gawked at them in disbelief.

"Oh…my…God," she breathed. "That really is a nightmare." She sighed, gave her head a good hard shake to dispel the visible shudder that shot up her spine, and leveled the threesome with a stern gaze. "Didn't Father and I tell you to be careful?"

"Yeah, well, we thought there was room for idiom," Peter protested. "When Sean said 'legs from here to Mars', he was being figurative."

"Not only that…but Cody wished that I'd take a flying leap, and next thing I knew I was freakin' skydiving," Doug added heatedly.

"Well," Leslie said slowly, blinking and taking it in, "it seems to me that if you got a woman whose legs truly did stretch all the way to the planet Mars—and if you wound up taking an actual 'flying leap'—then that should answer your question about how literal your power is." She leaned forward in Roarke's chair, her stare intense. "I think you'd better keep that in mind from now on, and try to put your wishes in words that aren't quite so metaphorical."

Just then Roarke came in through the open shutter doors. "Ah, good morning," he greeted their guests. "May I help you?"

"Uh, Leslie just kinda did," Sean said, and as one, the boys began edging back toward the foyer. Doug nearly tripped on the steps backing up them. "Thanks anyway, Mr. Roarke. See you later." With that, all three of them bolted.

"Might I ask precisely what I missed?" Roarke asked with interest.

Leslie grinned and explained what had happened; and when she finished, Roarke burst into laughter, his whole upper torso tipping back with the force of his mirth. "I believe that is the most entertaining anecdote I have heard this entire year," he said when he had regained enough control to speak.

Leslie chuckled ruefully. "By the way, Father, you didn't hear about the Terpening fantasy. The son came in here yesterday about an hour after lunch with the whitest face I've ever seen, and claimed that he was flying his carpet around the southwestern edge of the island when he saw an enormous man falling out of the sky at him, screaming and waving his arms and legs everywhere. When he steered the carpet to get out of the way, he fell off and landed in a swamp."

"Indeed," Roarke said through new laughter. "It's almost a shame that I have been so deeply involved with the Deering fantasy since Thursday evening. It would seem that I am missing a great deal."

"If you ask me, you've been getting off lightly," Leslie parried. "Actually, if that long-legged woman and the frat party last night are the worst things that have happened in this fantasy, we've _both_ been getting off lightly. It's funny, that's the first question we've had from those college guys since they first arrived here Thursday morning."

Roarke considered this and nodded. "Unless I miss my guess—and I don't believe I do—they have already made a number of ill-advised wishes, and have refrained from coming to us out of pure embarrassment." This time Leslie burst out laughing.

Peter, Sean and Doug decided the wisest course of action was to go back to their bungalow; but they soon wished they'd chosen a jungle path to follow instead of going up the Main House Lane and along the Ring Road, because all the way back they overheard people speculating as to what that horrible apparition at the pool could have been. Some said they might have been kite strings (but why hadn't they seen the kite?); others posited that it was rescue ropes from a helicopter (but no one had seen the actual aircraft, nor heard the rotors beating the air). A few insisted it must have been the landing of a UFO and made speculations involving assorted enemy-space-creature films such as _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ and _Alien_; one person even announced that it couldn't possibly have been anything but the Starship _Enterprise_ beaming up Captain James T. Kirk. That one provided some much-needed comic relief for the boys, who laughed a bit hysterically all the way back to their bungalow after that.

Waiting there for them was Kerry Denberg, who brightened at sight of Peter. "Hi, Peter," she said. "I was thinking…I'd like to try my luck at the casino. Would you be interested in coming with me?"

"Oh, sure," Peter agreed. "Just don't expect to win much." He tossed a farewell wave at Sean and Doug and sauntered away at Kerry's side.

"He's such an ass sometimes," Sean remarked, shaking his head. "Maybe he won't wish to win himself, but cripes, he could wish it for her."

"She probably doesn't even know about this whole fantasy," Doug said, pushing open the bungalow door. "If you ask me, she's better off not knowing."

Sean shut the door after him and Doug and thought for a bit. "Well, I got nothing against wishing for me. I wonder if I could get Sayuri to come to the luau with me if I made a wish that she would." Doug glanced at him but made no comment, dropping heavily onto the sofa and draping an arm across his closed eyes. Sean ruminated aloud: "I mean, geez, dude, she won't give me the time of day otherwise, and she thinks I'm fickle."

"Well, you are," Doug mumbled.

"On the other hand…I bet somehow the word would get back to Leslie, and she'd be all up in arms that I did that to her friend's little sister. Dude, I can't believe my crummy luck. Why'd it have to be her I went and fell for?"

"Wish it away," Doug said.

"No way, dude!" Sean exclaimed. "I don't wanna wish it away! I kinda like it!"

"You're insane," Doug told him.

Sean sighed. "Yeah, probably," he agreed gloomily. "After that stupid wish I made at the pool…" He broke off, eyes going wide with alarm, and charged into the room, yanking Doug's arm off his face. "Listen, man, we gotta make a vow. No more wishes without thinkin' real hard about what we're wishing for. Deal?"

Doug regarded him for all of three seconds, the memory of the leggy redhead dancing ominously in his mind's eye, before sticking out his hand and shaking with Sean. "Deal."


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- November 30, 1995

While Doug and Sean were trying their utmost to forget the disastrous event at the pool and Peter was occupied at the casino with Kerry, Cody sat on the beach in swim trunks and his beloved bomber jacket, ignoring the heat the leather garment trapped and the odd looks it got from people walking past him, thinking furiously. He overturned one mad scheme after another, wondering how he was ever going to get Leslie's attention without wishing for it outright. As badly as he wanted to do that, he didn't quite have the nerve. She was Roarke's daughter, so he wasn't sure whether his wishing power would even work on her. And if it did, there was always Roarke's wrath to face. Enough crazy things had happened during the course of their fantasy that he'd come to believe that Roarke was capable not only of knowing everything that went on around here, but also of reading the minds of every last one of his guests. No, wishing was out. But then what?

By the time he came up with his lone, admittedly lame, idea, the sun had long since sunk behind the trees and the beach had been deserted for several hours. His legs, hands and face were badly sunburned by now, but on his way toward the main house he wished the sunburn away and immediately felt much better. He then wished up an enormous cheeseburger and polished it off while hiking along the trail that would take him to the flagstone terrace at the back of the study in the main house. Duly fortified, he licked his fingers, wiped his hands on his swim trunks and stopped just at the end of the trail on the edge of the patio. The shutter doors were open to the night breeze and he could see more than half the room from where he stood. Leslie sat at Roarke's desk, on the phone with someone.

_Great!_ Cody thought and carefully sidestepped his way around the outskirts of the terrace till he stood behind the wall just beside the door, out of sight of anyone inside. He was just within range of Leslie's voice and listened eagerly to her side of the conversation. "I can believe that," she said with a laugh. "I assume he's been better about the child-support checks? Oh, good. No kidding, a girlfriend? And with kids, too! I hope she can keep him in line." She fell silent and listened for a minute or two, then said with a wistful edge to her voice, "No, we tried like crazy, believe me. But it just never happened. I told Tattoo once that maybe it was better, in a way. If Teppo and I had had a baby, I'd have been tied to his family after he died, and most of them wanted nothing to do with me. Maybe someday, if I ever find the right guy…"

_How can I get her to see it could be me?_ Cody thought, unaware of the fact that he was gradually losing his grip on rationality. _She must've been married once and she wanted kids with him. I could do that, no prob. Easy as hell. How'd that old song go?_ He found the melody and lyrics of the sixties hit "Happy Together" tinkling through his mind and stood swaying to the music he heard in his head, still listening.

"Well, I'm not going out chasing anyone," Leslie said eventually. "Frankly, I'm happy right here where I am, doing what I do. This is my home and I'm staying put, and there's no man in the universe who can drag me away from here. Oh shoot, look what time it is! I think you need to put Alexander and Noelle to bed for the night. I'm so beat I'm ready to go down myself. Listen, I've got about an hour and a half for lunch tomorrow if you want to do some more commiserating. Sound good? Great, see you about twelve-thirty."

_Fantastic!_ Cody thought, ecstatic. _She'll be with her friend and they'll be talking about guys, and who knows but she might even mention me. How could she not?_

"Have you learned everything you wished to know?" a quiet voice inquired with deceptive courtesy from behind Cody, and he froze there where he stood, mortification sweeping all through him. He was so red with embarrassment that he felt as if the sunburn had returned. Caught red-handed, and by none other than Roarke!

"Hi, Mr. Roarke," Cody mumbled.

"Good evening, Mr. Banning," Roarke returned, his voice coolly polite. "I assume that your parents taught you that it's extremely bad manners to eavesdrop on private conversations. In fact, under certain circumstances, it may even be illegal."

Cody stared at him, panic gleaming out of his eyes. "You mean you're arresting me?"

Roarke regarded him with an expression that suggested he was sorely tempted to do just that. "Perhaps if you were to remove yourself from the premises within the next ten seconds, Mr. Banning, I might be inclined to overlook this particular transgression."

"I'm gone, Mr. Roarke," Cody said and took to his heels. Behind him, Roarke watched him flee, then shook his head, chuckled softly to himself and went inside, pulling the French shutters closed for the night.

To Cody's relief, nobody was at the bungalow when he got back, giving him the chance to ruminate in private. But it was so late and he'd eaten such a large cheeseburger that he had fallen asleep within minutes of falling across his bed, ending his attempts to formulate any more plans that night.

§ § § -- December 1, 1995

"I know they're gonna talk about guys, I know it," Cody was mumbling to himself at the table, a little after 12:30, over a late lunch. They had all slept in and had been awake for two hours at most. He had been talking to himself in slightly deranged tones almost ever since crawling out of bed; he sat now with a mostly-untouched plate in front of him, while his friends ate in silence and tried to ignore him. They were all a little startled when he abruptly focused on Sean and said, "She's goin' to her pal Myeko's. You know, the sister of that girl you're after."

"So what?" said Sean. "That won't get me in good with Sayuri."

"They might just talk about you too," Cody said.

"Hell, dude, I don't care," Sean grumbled, contemplating the remains of four pizzas wished into existence by Doug. "They wouldn't have anything good to say, so why would I want to hear it?"

"What's he think this is, _Get Smart_ or something? I should wish him up a shoe phone so he can look the part," Peter snorted, making Sean and Doug laugh. "I mean, if he's gonna go over there and spy on them…"

"He could do a wiretap," offered Doug. "Isn't he supposed to be an electronics major? He oughta have no problem setting up a tap on the phone."

"I think he's just gonna hang off the roof like the lovesick ape he really is," Sean contributed, cracking up Peter and Doug. "Never mind the wiretaps or hidden mikes or shoe phones. He hasn't been half that subtle around Leslie anyway, so why even try to hide?"

Peter rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Look at him, frothing at the mouth over there. I don't think he's heard anything we've said. Why don't we just let him stew and figure out what we're gonna do for the rest of the day. Hey, anybody have any idea when our fantasy's supposed to end? That's one thing we forgot to ask Mr. Roarke."

"Search me, dude," Sean said, shrugging. "Y'wanna go over and ask him now?"

"We oughta drag Cody with us," Doug said, smirking. "Mr. Roarke might tell him where Leslie went so he can find out what she says about him, once and for all."

Cody blinked and came unexpectedly back to reality. "You goons, can it," he ordered in disgust. "I'm freakin' serious here. Dammit, I wish I could just be a fly on the wall and get an earful—" _Pop,_ and he was gone, so suddenly and silently that at first nobody else moved, staring at his empty chair.

"What happened to…" Doug mumbled, looking nervous.

Sean and Peter looked at him, then at each other, reviewing what they'd just heard, and both got it at the same instant. In perfect chorus they moaned, "Aw, sheeeeeeeezzzzz..." Doug blinked and peered back and forth at them, then figured it out for himself.

"Did Banning just wish he was a fly?" Doug asked carefully.

"Yes, he did," Peter said, and the three of them looked at each other with budding panic. "I think we better go see Mr. Roarke."


	7. Chapter 7

§ § § -- December 1, 1995

"Well, Clark was supposed to come over if he had the time," Myeko was saying over a cup of coffee, "but he's always working. I suppose that's the hazard of being sheriff on a weekend when twenty thousand Americans are swamping the island."

Leslie giggled. "Maybe only twenty dozen, but it sure seems like twenty thousand. In actual fact, for the most part things've been pretty quiet. Father and I debated having some Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday evening, but all those Americans cleaned out every scrap of turkey in every dining establishment on the island. We wound up settling for ham." She glanced at Sayuri. "What time do you have to be on the plane to Hilo? We'll take you over. I'm pretty much at loose ends till about four, when Father'll be ending the fantasies."

Sayuri looked up. "If I'm going to have enough time to settle in and get some decent sleep before my first class tomorrow morning, I'll have to leave by three at the latest. I just hope that crazy guy we saw in the café doesn't get wind of when I'm leaving and show up at the plane dock begging me for my address so he can write."

"Oh, come on," Myeko teased. "Give the kid a break, sis. He looked like he was truly nuts over you. Are you still claiming to be too busy for romance?"

"I'm never too busy for romance," Sayuri shot back, "but not with him. He's a one-night-stand type, and I do have standards."

"How could you tell?" Myeko bantered. "He might've been Mr. Right in disguise."

Sayuri gave her an incredulous glare. "Oh, puh-leeeeeeze!"

Leslie laughed. "Give her some credit for intelligence, Myeko. Sayuri's right; Sean Howard is one of those love-'em-and-leave-'em types. They're all just college kids…which makes me wonder why on earth that other kid, the biker type, seemed so interested in me."

Myeko smirked. "Flatter yourself a little, Leslie, and try considering the idea that the guy's taste in women has improved immensely with his interest in you."

"You're insane," Leslie told her and exploded with merriment. "If that's true, then I hate to think what sort of girl he normally hangs out with. He's way too young and wild for me, and I think he's vaguely psychotic in some strange way too." Something buzzed in front of her face and she ducked back in surprise. "Whoa! What was that?"

Myeko's eyes rounded with horror. "How'd that fly get in here? Those dirty things! Where's my flyswatter?" She scrambled out of her seat and began checking in one kitchen cabinet after another.

"It's only a fly," Sayuri said with amused surprise. "Why the panic?"

"They're filthy, Sayuri!" Myeko exclaimed, her tone one of astonishment that Sayuri even had to ask. "They walk around on dog doo, don't you know that? Do you think I want one of those nasty things in the same house with my kids?" She slammed the last cabinet door and started yanking open drawers in her frantic search. "Alexander!"

Alexander Tokita, now three and a half, trotted in from another room. "What, Mommy?" he asked brightly.

"Where's the flyswatter, son?" Myeko wanted to know.

Alexander shrugged. "I dunno."

Leslie and Sayuri laughed at this predictable answer, and Myeko gave them a dirty look. "Well, go see if you can find it. I don't want Noelle playing with it. It's got fly guts all over it and it'll make her sick."

"Oooo, fly guts?" Alexander asked with interest. "I wanna see the fly guts. I'll go find it, Mommy." Out he went, and Leslie and Sayuri both rocked with laughter.

"Yeah, you two, real funny," Myeko snorted, but despite herself she giggled too. "The things that kid comes out with." The fly zoomed in front of her and she ducked with a loud squeal that prolonged the other girls' laughter. "It's not _that_ funny. Sayuri, help me find the swatter, for crying out loud." Sayuri, still chortling, obligingly got up and joined in the search; after a few more minutes Myeko finally unearthed it atop the refrigerator, just as Alexander came back in with twenty-two-month-old Noelle behind him.

"I didn't find it, Mommy," he reported.

"That's okay, I've got it," Myeko said, stalking the kitchen for the errant insect with the swatter in one upraised hand as though she were preparing to charge into battle on the front lines. "Leslie, Sayuri, there's some newspaper in the living room…why don't you two roll up some and help me kill that fly?"

"Sure," Leslie agreed, trading a mirthful glance with Sayuri, and headed for the other room. Sayuri followed her.

Alexander ran in after them. "Aunt Leslie, Aunt Sayuri! I wanna kill the fly too! Mommy said there'd be fly guts!"

Sayuri nearly choked on a fresh laugh and tried to hide it by kneeling down and rolling up a few newspaper pages. "Here you go. If you see it, smack it good."

"Okay!" Alexander yelled in delight and pounded back to the kitchen.

"Me too, me too!" Noelle cried, and Leslie gave the little girl a rolled-up advertisement to wield. She and Sayuri dared not look at each other for fear of losing control; Myeko's overreaction and Alexander's excitement were hilarious to them. They hastily rolled up sections of the Sunday paper and returned to the kitchen, where the fly continued to elude its pursuers, zipping all over the room and occasionally dive-bombing one or another of them. Whenever it was one of the children, Myeko screeched in panic and lunged in vain after the insect.

In the middle of all this, there was a knock on the door; they almost didn't hear it, what with the children shrieking in manic delight from the chase and Sayuri laughing helplessly. Myeko wouldn't be distracted. "Was that the door? Could someone get it?"

"I'll go," Leslie volunteered, giggling, and went off to the door. To her surprise, on the other side was Roarke, accompanied by Sean Howard, Doug Wilde and Peter Gibbons. "Oh, hi, Father. What's up?"

"We have a somewhat urgent problem…" Roarke began, then interrupted himself, distracted by the noise from the kitchen. "What's going on in there?"

"We've been chasing a fly," said Leslie, grinning. "You know how paranoid Myeko is about flies around the kids. Somehow one got in here and she's on the warpath."

Abject horror transformed the college boys' expressions, and even Roarke looked decidedly alarmed. "Leslie, if you can distract Myeko and get her and the children out of the room, I would greatly appreciate it."

She stared at him in surprise. "Why?"

Roarke beckoned her forward and explained in low, urgent tones. "It would appear, according to our young guests here, that Cody Banning wished he were a fly in order to be witness to your visit with Myeko. Upon making the wish, he vanished, and his companions came to me. It's our belief that we will find Mr. Banning here."

Leslie stared at him. "You're kidding!" She took in the expressions on Peter's, Doug's and Sean's faces and blinked. "My God, you're not." She sucked in a fortifying breath and nodded once as if in confirmation. "Okay, come on." She led the way into the kitchen, where by now Sayuri had given up and was sitting sideways in a chair, roaring with laughter. Sean saw her and stared, all set to say something, but Peter and Doug both poked him sharply.

"Myeko, Myeko, hold it," Leslie exclaimed urgently, trying to calm both her and the children. Myeko, now out of breath, stumbled to a halt and peered at her. "Father's brought some, uh…fly experts with him. They'll take care of the problem. Why don't you take the kids into the living room, and we'll let you know when they're done." She caught Roarke's amused look and squelched another grin.

Myeko, fortunately, was so worked up over the fly that she swallowed Leslie's hastily improvised fib without a peep. "Okay, that works for me. Come on, kids." She shepherded Alexander and Noelle out of the room; Sayuri, just beginning to regain some control over her laughter, gave Leslie a surprised look, and Leslie gestured at her to follow her sister.

Roarke and Leslie waited near the table while Peter, Sean and Doug stood uncertainly in the middle of Myeko's kitchen. "How do we do this?" Doug asked.

"Can't think of any other way," Peter muttered, casting a discomfited look in Roarke's and Leslie's direction. He cleared his throat and said, "Okay, Cody, knock it off and get over here." He lifted a hand and held it over his head, palm up. After about ten seconds or so, they saw a black speck sail through the air in a decidedly drunken-looking manner and make a clumsy landing in Peter's palm. Slowly Peter lowered his hand and then trapped the fly there by placing his other hand palm down over it.

"I got him, Mr. Roarke," Peter said. "Let's go."

"By all means," Roarke agreed with a nod, as if nothing out of the ordinary had been taking place. Leslie still found herself amazed by that selectively nonchalant demeanor of his at times like these. "Leslie, do you wish to remain here?"

"Yeah, I think I'll stay awhile," Leslie said, trying to adopt her father's calm manner.

"Very well," said Roarke. "Thank you for your help…shall we be on our way, gentlemen?" The three boys nodded, looking unusually subdued, and followed Roarke out the door. Leslie watched them go and tried to decide whether to laugh, cry or pretend nothing had happened. In the end she simply rolled her eyes and began trying to work up something plausible to tell Myeko and Sayuri.

Outside, Roarke led the boys and their captive fly along a trail till they were well out of sight of any populated areas; then he faced them and said, "Perhaps you had better release him now, Mr. Gibbons." Sean and Doug looked at each other, then watched Peter cautiously lift his top hand and peer at the motionless insect on his upturned palm. Roarke nodded. "Why don't you place Mr. Banning on that rock there."

"Uh, Mr. Roarke, are you really sure that's Cody? It could be just any old fly," Doug spoke up worriedly while Peter transferred the fly to the rock Roarke had indicated.

Roarke smiled. "No, I believe we have the correct insect," he said. "Since you bring up the question, Mr. Wilde, why don't you do the honors."

Doug looked surprised, then shrugged one shoulder and self-consciously cleared his throat. "Um, uh…I wish that fly would go back to being Cody Banning again."

In a flash, the fly was replaced by Cody Banning, looking distinctly green around the gills, staring at them as if he didn't recognize them or anything around him. "Geez, Cody, you okay?" Sean asked foolishly.

Cody directed a sour glare at him before his eyes bugged out and he pivoted around on his behind on the rock, retching into the weeds. Roarke looked aside, gazing skyward and trying to control a long-suffering look; Cody's three friends looked at one another with "oh, yuck" expressions. It took Cody several minutes to recover.

There was an uneasy silence, broken only by Cody's desperate, heavy breathing; then Peter ventured, "You know, Mr. Roarke, if it's all right with you, this might be a good time to end our fantasy."

Roarke met his gaze with something suspiciously close to relief in his dark eyes. "An excellent idea, Mr. Gibbons," he said. "Gentlemen, do you concur?"

Cody nodded vigorously, one hand over his mouth and the other arm wrapped around his stomach. Doug shrugged amiably; Sean sighed and said reluctantly, "I guess so."

Roarke regarded him curiously. "Is there something wrong, Mr. Howard?"

Sean looked plaintively at him. "I was kinda hoping for just one more wish."

Roarke thought about this for a moment, extracted his gold pocket watch and noted the time, then snapped it shut and replaced it. "Very well, Mr. Howard, ten minutes and one wish. But I caution you very strongly to make that wish with the utmost care."

Sean shot a repulsed glance in Cody's direction and said, "Don't worry, Mr. Roarke. After what he went through, there's no way I'm not thinkin' about it!" He tore off down the path and out of sight.

By the time he reached Myeko's cottage, he found everyone outside; Alexander and Noelle, still wound up from the adventure with the fly, were chasing each other and their aunt Sayuri around the small yard while Leslie and Myeko watched, chatting. Leslie saw Sean first and peered at him curiously. "Something we can help you with?"

"I just wanted to talk to Sayuri a minute," Sean said, his gaze going inexorably to Sayuri, who spotted him, stopped and sagged with exasperation before glaring at him.

"How many times do I have to explain it to you? I'm not interested!" she said hotly.

For all his exasperation at her, Sean had worked out his wish beforehand, and now blurted it out. "Blast it, Sayuri, I wish you'd listen to me and let me tell my side of things!"

Like magic, she paused and eyed him. "All right, I'm listening." Myeko gave Leslie an astonished look; Leslie smiled faintly and let her gaze roam the treetops.

"Sayuri, I'm 21, I'm a senior in college, I'm gonna graduate in about six months, and I know I'm gonna have to grow up. But I needed a reason to do it. And I never had one till I saw you, don't you see? You make me want to be a decent guy, to make a good life for myself and someone special, and find out what it's like to be really in love with someone. Please, Sayuri, I'm not asking for anything except a chance to prove myself to you. All I want is to keep in touch with you, so you can get to know me. Then once you do, if you still think I'm a lowlife, you can tell me to fall off the edge of the earth and I'll do it, no arguments. Okay?"

Myeko smothered a surprised snicker behind her hand and Leslie grinned. Sayuri looked amazed. "You're actually serious, aren't you?"

"Deadly," Sean assured her. "This weekend's been a real eye-opener for me, and I'm never gonna look at things the same way again." He shot Leslie a look that made her grin expand. "You don't even have to give me your address, just take mine and you can decide if you want to write to me or not." He hunched his shoulders like a little boy. "Okay?"

Sayuri seemed enchanted in spite of herself; Leslie could see he'd managed to win her over after all. "Oh…okay. You made a good case for yourself, so I guess it's only fair to give you a chance. But don't forget, you're on a trial basis."

"Gotcha," Sean said, beaming. "I'll make sure you don't regret this. If you decide to write, will you send me your picture? That way I can tack it on the wall and it'll be like you're there, keeping an eye on me so I'll stay in line."

Sayuri chortled loudly. "Can't resist an offer like that. Myeko, do you have any paper and a pen?"

"Yeah, I'll get it," Myeko said, grinning. "Go for it, sis." She vanished inside the house; Sean and Sayuri regarded each other with bashful grins; and Leslie dared let herself hope that at least one of those crazy frat animals had learned something after all.

§ § § -- December 2, 1995

"It was a real experience, Mr. Roarke," Peter Gibbons remarked, pausing with his friends and Kerry Denberg to bid their hosts farewell. "I know one thing, I won't want to repeat it."

"Me either," Doug said, shuddering at some memory and then looking up wistfully. "I just wish I coulda kept that Lamborghini."

"Sorry, your fantasy's over," Leslie bantered lightly and they all laughed. She and Roarke shook hands with Peter, Kerry and Doug, who headed for the dock.

"Are you certain you'll be all right?" Roarke asked of Cody Banning, who still looked noticeably queasy. Cody grimaced slightly.

Sean smirked. "He'll be okay. He just thinks you hurt him and he's feeling sorry for himself. He'll get over it."

"Leslie?" Roarke asked in real surprise. "Why, she wouldn't hurt a fly."

Cody turned quite green and glowered at Roarke. "If you'll excuse my saying it, Mr. Roarke, that's the fattest lie I've ever heard in my life." With that, he lurched toward the dock, both arms wrapped securely around his midsection. Sean snorted cheerfully, said his goodbyes and trotted off after Cody, leaving their hosts trying their best not to laugh.

**THE END **_(till next time!)_


End file.
